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Entry 9 by Ogunyemi Bukola

Could it be that I am pregnant? If I am then there’s no second guessing who is responsible. But what will Rosco say? He doesn’t even talk to me or show any sign of acquaintance during the day so it’s not possible that he’ll accept responsibility.

That night he came back later than usual, I had almost given upon seeing him before he signaled to me to come. I went inside his danfo and it was evident that he was drunk. He must have gone to Iya Basira’s joint again with those never-do-wells.

He didn’t waste any time, he tore my wrapper and delved straight into me, I felt a sharp pain as my body adjusted to the intrusion, he was pounding me furiously but I couldn’t complain. Who am I to complain? It was clear he would last longer than usual so I braced myself for the onslaught; I wrapped my legs around him, pushed up my hips to meet his thrusts and quietly enjoyed the sweet sensation of the fire that was burning in my groin.

At that moment all thoughts of pregnancy disappeared from my mind, it’s been long I enjoyed Rosco this much; if only he will stop smoking that igbo that is almost rendering him impotent. His thrusts became erratic as he moaned loudly and poured his seed in me.

Without a word, he pressed N100 into my hands and motioned to me to leave. It was then I told him I was pregnant. He went pale, the blood drained from his face, visibly at loss at what to say or do. Finally, he took another N100 and told me to get 7Up and alum and use it very early the following morning.

I didn’t have to be told what that meant. I didn’t do it; I was scared of what would happen, what if I die? And a part of me wants a family too. I didn’t see Rosco until three nights later. He said government has removed subsidy from the petrol they are using to ride their danfo; that everything will become expensive and poor people like us are going to suffer a lot so they are going to protest.

For two weeks everywhere was like a graveyard. The roads were deserted and shops didn’t open. I heard everybody was at Ojota singing, dancing and abusing the government. They say that I am mad but is it not madness that will make someone put all the money meant for everyone in his own pocket?

Yesterday, they brought Rosco’s body to our house. A policeman shot him when they were doing protest. I couldn’t shed a tear for him; people will ask what is my own. I will give birth to the boy, he will be a boy, and he will grow up to be strong just like Rosco. He will be Seriki’s conductor and maybe when he grows up he will buy his own danfo too and take care of his mother.

This has been my favorite ending so far. it sticks with the tempo of the story and incorporates other elements unique to Nigeria like the subsidy strike therefore giving us another dimension to the story. Nice!

This is one of the best entries I have read so far. Of course I didn’t hesitate to cast my vote. I loved the fact that Roscoe had to be taken off the picture and also the mad woman’s perception of her unborn child’s future. Really good writing Bukola… See you at the Top 10.

Lovelie one uve got here. D plot is so cool, Nice sequence and outstanding theme… Trust me i didnt know Roscoe would die dat soon.. Thought he would be the president or something better. Keep up the good work.

Hmmmn, so touching! But i dnt lyk how d mother concluded that the unborn child will follow or live the life of his late father cos she does not know yet wot the unborn child wil bcom later in the future. Gooood write up, keep it up sir.